


Interrogation Interrupted

by notoneforreality



Series: R&D (Relationships and Dynamics) [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Autistic Character, Bondlock, Established Relationship, Gen, Interrogation, James is confused, James' perspective, M/M, Q (James Bond) is a Holmes, Q is Autistic, Stimming, autistic traits, but low-key
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24437767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoneforreality/pseuds/notoneforreality
Summary: James isn't sure why he's been asked to escort a non-violent detainee to the interview room, when he could be dealing with rather more violent criminals in a nice hot country, somewhere. Then Q turns up and confuses everyone except the detainee, which isn't fair.In which Q does all the work and James watches for once.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: R&D (Relationships and Dynamics) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790158
Comments: 10
Kudos: 332





	Interrogation Interrupted

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i thought it less like a lake (and more like a moat)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011182) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



James isn’t sure exactly why he’s needed to escort the detainee to the interview room. He’s tall, but there’s no muscle on his frame, and he doesn’t make a single move to run on the whole journey. Sherlock Holmes, M said his name was, a ‘consulting detective’ who liked to get into business that didn’t involve him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, James takes note of Holmes’ apparent disinterest in anything around him, striding after Moneypenny with the most disdainful twist to his face that James has ever seen. That’s impressive, when you consider how many self-righteous monologues James has had to sit through in his career. He rarely listens to them — the time is much more productively spent working out escapes — but faces don’t take much brainpower to appreciate.

Moneypenny opens the door and Holmes swishes in, coat billowing like a cape in an amateur dramatics production of Dracula. The things Bond has had to sit through for his job.

He makes to follow into the room, but Moneypenny shakes her head and closes the door, the automatic lock catching with a soft click.

“We’ll be in the observation room,” she says. “They want you as back up, just in case, but not in with him for intimidation.”

“Is there any particular reason I’m on this assignment?” James asks as they file into a tiny room in which Tanner is already waiting. One of the walls is almost entirely taken up by a window, watching the interview room in which Holmes is sat at the desk. It’s only a one way view, but Holmes is staring dead at them. It doesn’t mean anything; almost every interview room has a two way mirror, but something about the unblinking gaze makes the hair on the back of James’ neck prickle. He purses his lips. 

“You’re in the naughty corner for bringing back nothing but half an earpiece from Malaysia,” Tanner says, a self-satisfied smirk around his mouth. He’s got a tablet tucked into the crook of his arm, but his attention is split between the window and James.

Moneypenny smacks Tanner’s arm without looking at him. “Well, actually, that is part of it. The other part….” She looks across to Tanner again, and James sees an instant of doubt. “Apparently Q’s going in.”

The prickling sharpens, and James raises his chin, slow and deliberate under the watch of Moneypenny and Tanner. He hasn’t lasted this long by ignoring his instincts, and his instincts aren’t happy here. 

“Why Q?” he asks, in the same sort of tone he’d use when asking why Moneypenny was wearing red, today, or Tanner why he’d decided to switch his preferred takeaway.

Both of them see straight through it. 

“He requested,” Tanner says.

“How does Holmes know who Q is?” James crosses his arms. They’re missing something.

“No, Q requested he go in.” Tanner taps the tablet a few times. “M assumed it was something to do with the fact that he follows the bloke’s blog.”

“He has a blog?” Moneypenny raises her eyebrows and James has to fight the instinct to retreat. “I’m sure it makes riveting reading.”

Any further discussion is halted by the door opening and Q’s head peeking in. “Oh, Bond, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

James doesn’t say that neither was he. 

Q’s still talking. “I’m going in now. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, but there’s a sixty-forty chance we get orders to let him go, regardless.”

He doesn’t elaborate on which side of the ratio is in their favour, why he has any reason to suspect such orders are possible, or from whom they’d be coming. Instead he just nods his head and disappears back out into the corridor.

In less than ten seconds, the door to the interview room is opening, and Moneypenny and Tanner move closer to the glass to watch as Q enters. James stays where he is, and focuses on Q rather than Holmes. His expression is a flat sort of unimpressed, teetering on the edge of exasperation and irritation, and the feeling of having missed something blooms brighter at the base of James’s skull.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Q starts, not bothering to sit down. 

On James’ side of the glass, Moneypenny raises an eyebrow, and Tanner frowns. James steps back, closer to the door. On the other side, Holmes just looks bored at this unusual start to an interview.

“Trying to do my job,” he says. “But your lot apparently have an issue with sharing information.”

“It’s called national security, Sherlock,” Q says. “It’s a specialised term, I know, but even you must have heard of it.”

Moneypenny and Tanner exchange looks. The familiarity between Q and Holmes wasn’t an expected variable for them, either, then. 

“Do sit down and stop hovering,” Sherlock says. “I’m not one of your pets.”

Q’s eyes flick up for half a second, visible only because he’s stood on a diagonal, but then he moves across and sits opposite Holmes, his back to the observation room.

“What do you want?” Q’s voice is as flat as his expression had been.

“Information on a terrorist sect in Iran. I nearly had it, before your code ate half the harddrive of the computer I was using.”

Moneypenny and Tanner exchange another look, before Tanner goes back to whatever he’s going through on the tablet.

“He bypassed seven different security walls, then only tripped the virus because he tried to use a code that was already in use.” Tanner taps on the casing of his device, the tick revealing the depth of his concern. “We’re lucky the corresponding minion was in early, otherwise there’s no guarantee we would have even known about the infiltration.”

“I bet Q will be on that for the next twenty hours, once he’s out of here,” Moneypenny says. Her own apprehension is betrayed by the way she wraps her arms around her waist: not quite crossed, but with her fingertips almost brushing the taser James knows she keeps tucks in her waistband. “I’ll let the minions know to keep him fed and watered.”

“Don’t bother.” James trains his eyes on Q’s back, and sees Moneypenny and Tanner turn in his peripheral vision. “I’ll sort it out. M will want you back upstairs making sure nothing else has gone awry. I’ll get him back to Q-Branch and make sure he doesn’t starve to death.”

“I can’t believe you’re still going after her,” Q says from the next room. His hand flaps at the side of the chair. “She sold you out to Moriarty.”

James narrows his eyes. The name doesn’t ring any bells, but it’s all more information that reveals how much Q knows about Holmes, and still no explanation as to how. 

Holmes’ disdain slips into chagrin. “I’m still not going to let her die because of me.”

Despite not being able to see Q’s face, James can  _ feel  _ the eye-roll. Part of it is because he’s earned them enough that he can sense them coming at this point, and part of it is the disparaging line of his shoulders. The hand moves to trace patterns on Q’s leg.

“You’re not that important. She has a partner, and is more than capable of making her own decisions. Not every outcome of her life from now on can be traced back to her undying lust for one Sherlock Holmes.”

Holmes shifts, the first sign of discomfort since James had laid eyes on him. He doesn’t say anything.

For a long moment, no one in either room moves.

Q slumps. “Swear you’ll never so much as look at my coding — or any of MI6’s security again — and I’ll get you a flight to Isfahan. You can do your own dirty work from there.”

“What’s he doing?” Moneypenny’s voice is sharp. James shares the sentiment, but he keeps his eyes on the interview room. 

Tanner’s pocket buzzes, and he pulls out a phone, pressing it to his ear. His posture shifts, drawing up into something resembling parade rest, and he nods. “Yes, sir.” More speech on the other side. “I understand, sir. I’ll get him now.”

He hangs up and stares at the dead screen for a moment, then shakes himself back to attention and moves for the door. James steps out of his way, and both he and Moneypenny watch Tanner go.

“How the bloody hell did Q know that was going to happen?” Moneypenny stares at where Tanner is now in the interview room, telling Holmes he’s free to go.

“I have no idea.” 

Sherlock throws a cheery wave towards the two-way mirror, which makes Q slump even further into his chair, and Tanner stiffen.

Moneypenny shakes her head. “Get him down and working. I'd better go tell M we’ve lost our man.”

They leave the observation room together, and wait at the other door for Q to emerge, distant. When he looks up from staring at his shoes, it takes five blinks for any sort of recognition to flicker in his eyes, and he stares past James’ shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “Bloody bastard. Christ, this is going to take forever to fix.”

“Better get started, then.” Moneypenny’s voice is unsympathetic, but she nudges Q’s shoulder with her own as she starts towards the lifts, and it’s enough that Q’s shoulders loose some of their droop.

James catches Q’s elbows with his fingertips and steers him in the same direction. “Come on, then. We’ll get you set up and I’ll order pizza for the branch.”

“You are an angel amongst men, Bond,” Q says, the relief in his voice almost tangible, and, despite his rules about work, and despite the camera trained on the space where they’re waiting for the next lift down, he leans into James. It’s only the tiniest shift of his centre of gravity, a feather touch against James’ sleeve, but it’s enough that James relaxes, too. 

Once they get down to the tunnels, Q will be in his element, and everyone will be happier.

Not least the minions, when James orders that pizza.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this one without making any notes alongside becuase I just vomited it onto the page in about an hour, except for one point when I had to go to dinner and leave a half finished sentence, and then couldn't remember where I was going with it. This was inspired by another fic I read, which I shall link in the appropriate place when I find it again.
> 
> In other news: title and summaries are the worst.
> 
> Also: I hate Moffat's characterisation of Irene Adler with a PASSION but here we are ig


End file.
